


Freedom They Can Reach

by PaulaMcG



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Beaches, Blow Jobs, Community: hp_drizzle, F/M, First War with Voldemort, Frottage, HP Drizzle Fest 2020, Hand Jobs, Kissing, M/M, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Marauders Friendship (Harry Potter), Minor James/Lily - Freeform, Outdoor Sex, Rain, References to Homophobia, Sirius Black's Flying Motorbike, Thunder and Lightning, Touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:14:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25781194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaulaMcG/pseuds/PaulaMcG
Summary: Under rising thunderclouds in late July 1980, Remus and Sirius take a different road towards home or freedom.
Relationships: James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 6
Kudos: 18
Collections: HP Drizzle Fest 2020





	Freedom They Can Reach

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the HP Drizzle Fest 2020. The prompt was # 94: _Sirius and Remus get caught in a rain storm while out for a ride on Sirius’s motorbike._ Thank you for the beta, Liseuse!

Enjoying the feel of warm, smooth sand under his soles and between his toes, Remus keeps looking down until reaching the concrete steps. It's been such a perfect carefree day that he's oddly content also with every detail in himself, not only in this temporary but recurring treasure of his young human body, but in his scruffy summer style, too. These legs and thighs now more tanned again – revealed by his perhaps too short cut-offs made last year of the jeans which were falling apart, not passing even for punk attire – will be stroked by Sirius, who'll admire the golden shine of the hairs, and he won't mind being called furry.

On the first step, before starting to ascend, he drops his ratty canvas shoes and slides his feet into them – and is just bending to get the heels in, too, when something hits his arse... No, someone who makes him laugh of pleasure.

"Pads, you blundering mutt, watch out!" He doesn't mean it, of course. He's happy that Sirius in his human form, too, collides with him on purpose, so as to get to touch him.

But while the dog would wag his tail and lick Remus's face, Sirius barely glances at him. In any case it's all right that dogs aren't allowed on this beach. By the time they have their privacy, Sirius will be randy enough to shag him senseless. And Remus has got to revel in these gorgeous sights of his partner, and not ended up paying too much attention to the delicious diversity of other nearly naked sexy guys basking in this sunshine, which they've all yearned for while suffering from mainly awful weather until late July.

This image now against the background of the emptying beach and rising thunderclouds is a treat to be stored in memory and summoned back on any lonely full-moon evening. That fleeting grin, too, will return to this beloved face, and the black tendrils will be dripping on the wide shoulders, drenching the white t-shirt to better reveal their handsome shape. And there's a chance for a touch. So as to shove him away in fake irritation, Remus stands straight, and his hand manages to covertly caress the chest, sensing the warmth of the skin through the flimsy fabric.

The graceful head jerks up, this time not in a hair-flick, but to indicate the direction where the mesmerising eyes are turning. "Sorry. I wasn't looking. I was looking over there." A clumsy excuse?

No, up by the railing there's another sight worth an eternally-living portrait.

Lily's leaning out towards the sea and against the gusts of wind, reaching as far as she can when her amazing belly's getting in the way, pressing on the iron rail. Her hair's streaming horizontal like a fiery flag. Now she notices them staring at her, and as she raises her both arms to wave, the long and wide sleeves, too, of her loose, translucent dress billow like sails. Yes, she's a vessel in full sail heading for new harbours.

All the way up to the pavement, stumbling, with his shoes not properly on, Remus feels compelled to keep his eyes on her, sensing acutely the threat that everything changes and she like this will soon be gone. Arriving next to her – out of breath and sweating, as the air is still sultry, oppressively hot – he can't resist hugging her.

There's been a song about a summer breeze in his mind today, and another one from that old album of hers, and that's where the words slip out from. "Don't fly away!" he says in her ear when she wraps her arms like wings around him.

"I'm much too heavy!" Lily laughs, but is there a trace of wistfulness in her voice?

She had a choice. She could be still travelling across the sea and to any far-off places as the Gringotts Curse-Breaker she was, had she not committed herself to the Order and to James, to all of them really, her dear animals. But this is what she wanted, also to have a child in this unfair world. To have hope, she said. 

"You won't be for long. One week, they say, right?" Suddenly James is there, disentangling his wife from Remus's grip, managing to stroke Remus's shoulders, and neck, too, in the process, perhaps aware before Remus himself that he's been driven also by the desperate need for touch on his skin.

This need on these days still embarrasses him, and they've never talked about it like about his appetite, which kept him a target of jokes at Hogwarts, before threat of hunger became too constant in his life and therefore a sensitive topic – and that may have changed again when he finally moved to live with Sirius. While he'll never again taste an apple from the old orchard or bangers prepared by his...

And here it is again, the fear born and become reality, too, last year. Fear for changes bringing loss and guilt for survival. Still, he must have hope, and trust that the five of them – or six, with the baby – will make it through this together.

This goal has surpassed his focus on independence, and in any case, now that since before Christmas he pays no rent, today, too, he's bought his own meal. And his four friends have all shared the fun in feeding him also from their portions of fish and chips, talking almost openly about his being ravenous due to the pregnant moon.

James has now focused fully on giving Lily a long and thorough snogging, while Remus has crouched to finally get his heels into the shoes.

As Remus stands up, James turns back to punch him on the arm. "Thanks anyway for holding her so tight, taking care she won't escape with my child. Wish we could fly, or use the floo at least, but..."

"Why don't you come with me to the wiz..." Peter's reached them, too, and pulled a black garment from his bag, and he almost drops it when realising what he's about to blurt out. "To our side of the Folkestone station?" he corrects himself, balling the robes to be held under his arm, and starting to stuff his garish towel in. "You know... my grand-aunt's waiting by her fireplace in Hampstead." 

"You have a date with your grand-aunt?" Standing a couple of yards aside with a hand on his motorbike's saddle, Sirius has spoken over his shoulder. "You must miss the heat of her heart and her hearth on a day like this." He can't resist ridiculing Peter's attempt to hint cautiously at the magic means of travel – and teasing him even more. "There's also another respected elder waiting to see you. To recruit you."

"Can't meet him this time." It's hard to see if Peter, fiddling with the cuffs of his fancy button-up, is blushing or not. For the last hour before they left the beach, Remus saw him try to keep his back, covered with that towel, towards the sun, but he's burned his nose, cheeks and forehead, too. "I must be on the Isle of Anglesay this evening. My girlfriend..."

Sirius cuts in, facing them all with dramatic gestures and mournful singing. "Love will tear us apart again."

"Yeah, your love for your bike will," Peter throws back at him.

"Right!" James laughs. "Those three will get back to London in their own way. Motorway? Anyway, Lily and I can't join you, Wormy, because..." He glances at Lily, holding her hand now.

"Our respected elder..." She pauses for a chuckle, acknowledging Sirius's way of referring to fucking Dumbledore. "He's ordered Alice and me to go out only in places where there are... people of this side, a lot of them, too."

"Special security measures for the two heavyweights," James confirms solemnly, and he continues in whisper, "He-Who... you know, can't possibly want to draw attention among these people. Doesn't aim at them in masses yet."

Only at cross-breed creatures like those sheltered by Remus's...

After all these months, completing such thoughts still makes Remus nauseous, and there's a threat of tears, and he can bear doing it only when holding his Pads. Now he focuses on the motorbike, looking forward to straddling it with Sirius. However, he catches himself wishing they hadn't together turned the once hopefully gleaming blue tank black, and that Sirius hadn't called his bike Grim, as if an omen of death were a joke, or worse, a pride.

The others have grown quiet, too, perhaps wondering what they can say about their war here when there are constantly some Muggles passing too near. Or if they want to talk about anything that serious and spoil the mood of their rare shared day out.

James starts rubbing himself under his t-shirt and even wriggles his fingers under his shorts. "You hurried me too much," he says, proceeding to scratch his scalp, perhaps happy about an excuse to further mess up his unruly hair. "I should have dived in once more after the burial."

This almost succeeds in making Remus, too, laugh. But he's haunted by the image of James rising like in a horror film from under the sand they piled over him.

"We're not leaving too early." Glancing at the sky, Peter once again changes his mind about rolling up his sleeves. "Let's go now before the storm breaks!"

"Maybe we stayed too long and it was too tiring for you, Lily." Sirius's frowning turns into a grin. "And for... my godson."

"Or goddaughter! Of course it wasn't. A bit too hot for me, but so much fun. Anyway, the two..." Lily strokes the mountain of her belly. "The three of us are taking the train."

"Let's walk to the station together then." Peter adjusts the bag on his shoulder. "And Moony, Pads, I'll see you on Sunday evening – the day after tomorrow, okay?"

"You're coming from Wales so soon again?" Sirius's tone is ambivalent, but he should be happy that Peter at least stays loyal to Remus, while for a year now finding excuses for not joining the Order yet. 

"Of course. Straight to – you know where." To their haunt for the furry antics in Yorkshire.

"Thanks." Remus reaches to pat Peter on the shoulder – minding the sunburn, cautiously enough. "And give my best to Ann. Now hurry!" He flails with his both arms, urging them all to go without further ado, also before Sirius once again expresses his doubts about Ann's existence. 

Peter's shown them a photograph, but it's a Muggle photo, and – unfairly, of course – that makes it hard for Remus, too, to believe his and her closeness is more real than his own with Jim Morrison or Amelia's with Siouxsie Sioux.

Or Sirius's with Tom Robinson, which is more real because they saw him on stage at the Carnival Against the Nazis. Then again, that was two years ago. Now TRB's disbanded, and the best time of punk, and of Sirius channelling energetic, hopeful anger in punk is over.

Indeed, now when closing the saddle bags and the helmet strap, and handing the other old open-face helmet to Remus, Sirius is again humming the same sombre song. "We're changing our ways,/ Taking different roads./ Then love, love will tear us apart again."

Remus dislikes Sirius's fixation with this song perhaps more because Ian Curtis killed himself before it came out last month. He doubts he'd manage to be jealous in any case. Unlike Sirius, he is never – except of Grim.

Now again he can't help seeing – if not quite seriously – Sirius's movements as if he were fondling the handlebars and rubbing his crotch sensually against the saddle. It's mainly that Sirius's pleasure – and particularly his lasting crush on this bike – always makes Remus smile, while he knows it would be no use suggesting that Sirius leave the bike here because riding all the way to London in a thunderstorm might not be a good idea. On the other hand, without his love for Grim Sirius wouldn't give Remus such a pleasure as their bodies pressed together in public. They are inevitably a threesome.

And Remus reaches his earlier contentment when settling behind his Pads for their way home. Besides, Sirius knows how to handle the shitty electric starter, and that makes them both whoop in pride.

Though the long journey's barely begun, and they've only just left the streets of Folksestone, for Remus this is nearly like home. Grim's roar and the speed both thrill and soothe him. Right here he'd dare think about anything, even dream about anything – but he hardly needs to.

Patches in the green landscape streaming backwards and slipping behind them flash golden and grow murky again under the swift clouds. And here the grass in the roadside is gleaming, wet. One shower has already passed, and there's steam rising from the tarmac. Its odour is perhaps the most enchanting one among the smells in this world of modern Muggle constructions Sirius has introduced to him.

The rush of air against them cools his bare skin, and the shivers that run through him are finally pleasurable again in the way being pierced by cold used to be back when he enjoyed wandering, carefree in nature, even barefoot late in autumn and early in spring – when it was a choice. Perhaps the week of homelessness after he was evicted just when losing the right to ever return to his childhood home...

Trembling, he leans tight against Sirius's back. Yes, losing his parents, and being left alive, feeling guilty, and a burden now for others despite any love.

It's a small trivial comfort, but perhaps that awful week didn't make him permanently lose the joy of having more intense arousals when cold. Now at last, at the end of the hottest day of the summer, he can feel a promise of such a pleasure again. He's looking forward to the thrill of rising to ever colder layers of air.

"Let's fly!" he can't resist shouting close to Sirius's ear, happy to confirm that he still wants it, while no urging is needed.

Grim has already swung to the small road towards Etchinghill. Sirius won't let the threat of thunder change their plans to fly over the Kent Downs towards Maidenstone and maybe all the way home.

Now he pulls up to the edge of a shallow ditch by a thicket running along the left side of the road. As soon as they've together pushed the bike behind a cluster of bushes, he takes a step backwards away from Remus, and Remus knows not to expect a half-public quickie – like the one in a lush memory from their road-trip a year go.

But suddenly a bright, open grin tells Remus how fully Sirius shares and loves that memory – even before the playful words. "This time I'm not exposing my arse to you. We've got a perfectly good bed waiting."

"Right, all right." Remus holds his hands, palms out, in front of his chest, then puts them behind his back before bending forward with his lips puckered.

Sirius shifts closer with exaggerated caution. They burst into laughter at the same time. And now...

Sirius remembers and cares. He never forgets the urgent need, and Remus knows he's frustrated when not only do they have to postpone sex, but also he can't make himself caress Remus's skin like this due to any risk of anyone paying attention. Now his tender fingers are drawing the outline of Remus's face, stroking his temples, his cheeks, his chin. While Remus proceeds to a kiss on the beloved beautiful mouth, pushing his tongue in but not even as deep as Sirius has learnt to bear it, Sirius's hand slides along his neck, and finally two fingers slip under the t-shirt to follow the collarbone, almost but not quite until the bite scar – before Remus stops them with his palm, smiling against Sirius's lips.

He wants to say thank you, but Sirius dislikes the idea that this would be a service to be expressed gratefulness for. Sirius hates his gratefulness.

After a final peck on Sirius's nose, he says, instead, "Want to Disillusion Grim and me now?"

A firm hand still travels down Remus's back, and pats a buttock, before Sirius turns to take their wands from a saddle bag. In their silence the distant rumbles of thunder sound as close as the somnolent buzz of insects, but this cramped space within the thicket is still bathed in dabbled greenish yellow light, and the air is completely still.

Remus is barely straddled on Grim when it disappears from his sight, merging into the grasses underneath. Sirius has performed the charm voicelessly, and now he repeats it without delay, this time, after his caresses, without any need to scan Remus's face so as to continue to see it in his mind exactly as it is today. Remus welcomes the feel of cold water running from the spot on his crown where the wand has tapped him – the cold streaming down all over his skin.

As soon as his face has warmed up enough for him to manage to pronounce the incantation clearly, he lifts his invisible hand and Disillusions Sirius in turn, in the humble way he can make it work. “Ungedwimore!”

He doesn't mind he needs to say it aloud. He loves the paradox in this magic, and the explanation the two of them have invented. The ancient incantation speaks of undoing a delusion, and they want to believe that allowing light to traverse them makes them fully real and bound together.

Remus can always be secure in holding to an image of Sirius, and painting it in his mind helps him escape all other worries – just as the flying does. The thrill of flying on this Muggle-made mass of metal beats any broom-riding. The bike rises straight up at the mere sound of a wand swishing above the handlebars, now that Sirius is confident enough to say this incantation, too, only in his mind, and Remus enjoys sharing the words in his: Grimardium Leviosa.

And when they're hovering above the downs... Locomovera Aera! Grim sways and dashes ahead soundlessly, moved by magic alone.

It's warmer than Remus expected. Sirius has not lifted them as high as the mounting blue-grey, white-topped clouds. The sun still shines bright on his left, and they must be riding north-east at the speed of the sea wind. Yet, Remus slips his arms from under Sirius's, crosses them across Sirius's chest, and rests his head on the invisible shoulder, feeling the dampness of the t-shirt against his cheek.

This is the freedom they can reach now. Unseen, they can become twirled into one, here out in open air, in broad daylight. This – with its exhilarating risks – must suffice to Sirius, too.

But to Remus's surprise there's no vibration of humming running through to his chest. To his disappointment, too, even if it could have been only about love tearing them apart again! Perhaps Sirius is nervous about riding into a storm.

Riders on the storm... A song awakens in Remus's body, although the best parts, the psychedelic sounds can be heard only in his head. "This was Jim's last released recording before he died... nine years ago," he says, rubbing his face against Sirius's hair. "Only fair you listen to this in turn."

Without the instruments this hardly sounds great. On the other hand, like this the song's probably easy enough for Sirius to learn at once. "Into this house we're born/ Into this world we're thrown/ Like a dog without a bone/ An actor out on loan/ Riders on the storm/ There's a killer on the road..."

A nervous twitch in Sirius's back makes Remus stop. When the head turns, lips first brush over Remus's, but now Sirius says. "I doubt there'll be any broom-riders, visible or invisible, in this weather. But perhaps we'd better be quiet." And the voice is depressingly serious.

Yes, they must remain unseen, and unheard. Of course, it's reasonable for everyone to be cautious now, and the two of them are the fabulously reckless ones to leave Muggle crowds behind. But it hurts to see Sirius sway between temerity and concern, never relaxed and rejoicing in great prospects like in the first years after he freed himself from his family. What Remus wishes for his Pads is joy, and hope for true freedom.

Remus can't resist continuing to sing, just softly now into Sirius's ear, "Our life will never end/ Gotta love your man/ Riders on the storm."

Sirius turns his head a bit, not enough to reach Remus's lips again, perhaps only shakes it, but now there's brightness of a smile in his whispered words, "Gotta love my Moony," which almost join in the song.

A deep growl of thunder rolling across the sky makes them both hush and bend forward, and Grim speeds up. Of course, they never believed they'd escape the storm.

The whole patchwork of green – of fields, meadows and woods – changes to dark tones, as if night were falling. The dome of sky has disappeared behind an ominous drooping layer of leaden grey, and Remus wishes they could have risen above the clouds in time. When the world around them has turned visibly hostile, not seeing himself and Sirius is no longer a blessing, and Remus catches himself closing his eyes, so as to focus on Sirius's presence and their contact.

Listening, he expects to hear the rain start and move closer, in the way in the city it rattles roofs nearer and nearer, and back in the Cotswolds approaches as a wave of franticly rustling trees. But no... A bolt of lightning flashes behind his lids, but he opens them to deepened gloom.

After another rumble from the clouds has torn the silence in two, there's only Sirius's voice, surprisingly calm. "We're not even half-way. That's the Canterbury road. We're going down and taking it south-east, to Ashford."

Now Remus keeps looking down so as to perhaps help locate a spot for landing. They're closer to the ground, but the air's grown colder as the wind's turned.

And without further warning, the rain lashes down, dense and forceful. It hits Remus's neck and soaks the back of his shirt immediately, and he can see the heavy drops bounce on Sirius's chameleon form. 

"Yeah, we'll take that road," Sirius shouts now, "when it turns from a river back into a road."

Another flash of lightning has illuminated the ground and the pitted film of water streaming along the road which they're approaching, as well as the river snaking next to the road. Around here it must have already been raining at least for some minutes.

"It crosses a real river right here," Remus shouts back.

"Right. The Great Stour. Let's take shelter under the bridge."

They're descending fast, perhaps out of Sirius's control. No, this can't be only luck...

Renewed admiration and trust have made Remus whoop like at the start of their journey. Grim's landed within a yard from the edge of the river, and it slides across wet grass to the narrow strip of land under the cover of the bridge.

Sirius twists back enough to hug Remus briefly, and laughs. Their laughter joins in the sounds of the rain, which, too, are now familiar and envelope them in a private world, safe from any wrath of the heavens. Perhaps this makes Remus imagine that...

"Good to see you again," Sirius says.

Indeed, the Disillusionment is wearing off. They would have needed to recast the charms, if they'd flown all the way.

Now Sirius's wide grin is shimmering into view just when they share a shiver, and Sirius shoves Remus on the chest. "Come on. Stand up and take off your wet clothes. Or do you want to Apparate home? Grim and I must wait..."

"No." Remus clambers from the saddle, removes the helmet, and pulls off the shirt, which has stuck to his back. "Do you seriously think I want to go anywhere when you ask me to take off my clothes?" He could suggest that Sirius Apparate with him, enjoy a shag at home, and come back for Grim, but... "We must all stay together, the three of us."

Sirius rummages in the saddle bags and gets their towels out. "All of your clothes!"

The towel is still damp. However, after quickly drying himself, finishing with his legs, Remus is about to wrap it around himself. But Sirius snatches it from his hands.

Remus doesn't mind. He's fully happy... no, not sated yet, of course not, but with the drenched shoes still on, he revels in his shudders and in the anticipation of sharing body warmth, fiercely glad to be standing here in the nude, feasting his eyes on – and with his hopeful hard-on pointing to – Sirius's equally naked but immeasurably more handsome body with its muscles trained in Auror drills. The tan looks deep bronze in the gloom, and the tight arse shines white, inviting – particularly as Sirius is bending to spread the two towels on the scanty grass. Placing their wands next to them must be a precaution.

"No quickies now against Grim. You're going to lie down there," Sirius says, turning and exposing a cock, which is definitely perking up. "And I'll be on top of you. I must keep you warm. With this, too." 

Now he's taken out his leather jacket, and he steps behind Remus and offers it as a gentleman would to a lady. 

"Your sexy Schott Perfecto One Star jacket!" While allowing the sleeves to slide up his arms, Remus feels Sirius's deliciously growing erection against his hip. "Are we a foursome really?"

"You and me, we're the sexy ones, not the jacket." Sirius twirls Remus around and bends to press gentle lips on his bare chest, not only to follow the lines of the scars but to cover all of his skin with kisses.

Sirius has learnt to know him too well, remembers too well, means to help him forget that when bitten, he was deformed by clawing, too. And just as Sirius remembers that touching the bite scar would be too much this close to the full moon, he must be struggling to hide his concern about Remus ever staying where there's risk for violence, from which even the bloody beastologists and fucking Dumbledore want to protect him, so that he wouldn't resort to any himself and lose the rest of what's human in him. How could Remus forget? Just by wanting Sirius so much that he must stop thinking.

Remus grabs Sirius's hair and pulls him along as he lies down on the towels. Sirius settles on his knees and begins to stroke Remus's ankles and legs – unfortunately, in the dim lighting, bound to miss any shine of hairs against the new tan – and to move upwards obviously with an ambition to touch every part of his body before the genitals... Yes, because now, having reached the hips, he remembers he's ignored the feet, and backs down to take off the shoes.

Oh, he's rubbing Remus's soles and toes with a hot, throbbing cock! Remus lifts his head to see this, biting his lip to suppress a moan, and wrapping fingers around his own aching erection, and meets Sirius's smile.

It's no longer necessary to tell Sirius how well he's doing. After all these years, he must know that Remus finds sex with him marvellous. It could never be like this with anyone else.

Of course, Sirius is not astray if he suspects that Remus could enjoy a totally different fuck with someone else. The two of them make love – and they make it new and better each time. Sirius always aims at doing better, and they do what they both want and need. There's no mere service, and no sacrifice. On a couple of days every month Remus definitely prefers frottage to penetration, and that's more than fine for Sirius, who's only gradually unlearnt the fear of intimate touch. This is all invaluable for both of them, but when they continue to help each other cope and heal, they can never forget their... wounds.

Remus has laid his head back down, and as he feels the length of Sirius's whole body against his right side, he closes his eyes. He's no longer cold. Perhaps the storm has passed, and it's a warm summer evening. His new fantasy is that... he's someone else. Perhaps with a stranger, perhaps with his proud spouse – who's now kissing his mouth hungrily but stopping too soon to talk.

"All day you've been eating me with your eyes," Sirius says.

"Don't need my eyes for that now," Remus replies, looking at him anyway, and he sees the grin, and the slight frown between the graceful brows – sees his bold and vulnerable Pads.

No, his dream is not to be someone else or to have someone else. Only the two of them to be somewhere else – where they can be free, freely together and healed... No, not cured, but whole and safe just as who and what they are with their pasts and their scars.

But now he wants to stop thinking. "You've made us ready for you to feed me." That must be enough to acknowledge Sirius's tender foreplay.

Disentangling himself from Sirius, Remus turns around to lie on his left side, facing the handsome cock, which rises to meet his lips. He knows Sirius has learnt to enjoy receiving a blowjob, and that they'll both come soon enough before it gets too uncomfortable to continue this on the hard ground, and... There's no need for any thought.

There's only the taste of precome on his tongue, and the smells of sea water and Sirius's sweat, and the feel of Sirius's balls against a cupped palm, Remus's left, and under the gentler, more sensitive fingers of that hand. And after he's spitted on the right one, its firm movement around the cock, now his lips around it, its head not too deep, just against the roof of his mouth, and the rhythm in which his own cock joins, rubbing against Sirius's shoulder. And Sirius's hands sliding in long strokes up under the jacket and down again to his buttocks.

Now the shudders of Sirius's coming and of his own, in the harmony they've grown into.

But as soon as he's finished swallowing Sirius's come, he senses the impatient tension in the body under his. And he realises it's not only due to physical discomfort. As he shifts aside, Sirius has already grabbed a wand and is Vanishing Remus's come.

"My Moony." The tender address seems to have evoked the smile on Sirius's own face, too. "You liked that, didn't you? Us doing it out here. Now you're all fed..."

"I hope you aren't fed up!" Remus quips.

And at the same time he realises that Sirius would have preferred waiting to have the shag at home – or even going home for it immediately, and leaving Grim here – if he had not thought that Remus would love him to take a risk like this. In a way, Sirius must have enjoyed being reckless, but he's never before been willing to do anything brash when it concerns a risk of exposing the nature of their relationship. And he's been frustrated when Remus tends to forget that in this country there are few other places where their intimacy would be accepted or at least ignored like in the neighbourhood of part-humans where he used to rent a room, and like in the Cotswolds community of crossbreeds.

"Thank you." Remus has got the chance to say it, as Sirius has used a Drying charm on his shoes and proceeds to use the same effortless-looking voiceless magic on the clothes they've spread on the motorbike saddle.

There's a silence broken only by an occasional car driving along the bridge, and filled by the rich scents of earth that's breathing out in its contentment after the generous rain.

When pulling his shorts up, Remus can't resist adding, "I guess you'd have liked it better... even better, if we'd done it somewhere else."

Since there's no response, he looks more closely at Sirius, who's now getting dressed with quick, impatient movements.

Remus takes off the leather jacket and places it on the saddle, picking up his dried shirt. "Your turn to make One Star look sexy, my turn to see you in it."

Since the Drying charms consume body heat, Sirius will need to wear the jacket, although he wouldn't admit it. He won't protest when Remus lifts it on his shoulders, according to their habits of reciprocity and as a gesture of appreciation for the start of their love-making.

No, he stands still, when Remus steps behind him. With the jacket on, he turns around and grabs Remus's bare arms with his cold hands, and says. "We will do it somewhere else."

He lets go of Remus quite as abruptly, and starts pushing Grim from under the bridge. Perhaps he means home. Remus will like that, too. In cosy candlelight, if the night is still too hot for firelight.

But just as they see the sky above them almost clear, with the remnants of clouds painted crimson, Sirius adds, "Someday we'll go and do it anywhere we like." Instead of continuing up the slope towards the road, he straddles the bike, and touches it with his wand.

Remus hurries to settle behind him, and replies, with a voice trembling due to the streams of magic turning him invisible again, "When the war's over and the Aurors get permission to travel abroad... " He cuts himself off, so as to Disillusion Sirius.

They've risen up and merged into the sunset sky by the time Sirius declares, "When this is over, I'll quit the bloody Auror Office and all Orders, and we'll fly away wherever we want to. Paris, for starters."

"Why Paris?" Remus leans tighter against Sirius, trusting that they'll remain intertwined all the way up to London. "Sounds romantic."

"Why, we'll be all legal in France. You must teach French to me now. I know you miss teaching since Andromeda took little Nymph away to keep her safe from the war."

"Miss Tonks," Remus corrects him. "Or just Tonks, as she said the last time. All right. I'll take more French courses at Merlin College this autumn."

"And more art courses. You'll be an artist in Paris, and I'll be your lover and partner – not a partner in crime – under any romantic bridge."

Shared with his Pads, this becomes a sweet dream and more, a goal: together, living as free as without a home.

**Author's Note:**

> The song Sirius keeps singing is Love Will Tear Us Apart by Joy Division, released in June 1980. The song Remus sings is Riders on the Storm by the Doors, released in June 1971. The songs in Remus's mind earlier are Summer Breeze and Hummingbird by Seals and Crofts, released in 1972.


End file.
